Growing Up Hanyo
by Britedark
Summary: Bits and pieces looking at Inuyasha's early life, after he was orphaned. #7: Young Inuyasha has an accident...
1. Thief

_**Disclaimer:**__ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

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_**Author's Introduction: **I've written several short pieces about young Inuyasha, and have started to start this serial. This will be a collection of short pieces, written mostly for LiveJournal prompts, with no particular chronological order. To avoid breaking links, I am not moving previous stories done on this theme. They can be found in the general collection "Little Bits", chapters 1, 2, 4, and 36._

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**Thief**

Inuyasha sniggered silently as he listened and watched the villagers fruitlessly try to find a trail. So stupid! Three nights, he'd raided their stores, and they hadn't a clue on how to find his trail. Blind-nosed amateurs.

Guilt twinged, but he slapped it down with a spurt of anger. They deserved it! He'd _tried_ to be good: he'd been attempting to use the jewelry he'd found in a nest to trade for food, but just like every other village, they'd called him 'thief,' had tried to capture him, and he'd had to run. And this village was wealthy! And big. And their granaries were huge. They wouldn't miss the little bit he'd taken—a few bags of rice, a small barrel of smoked fish, a couple of pots. And this little crock of pickled daikon he'd noticed on the way out with the last bag of rice.

His mouth watered. Temptation won. He'd have just a piece, before he left. Just one. To celebrate.

He opened the lid.

Light flashed, and he yelled.

... ... ...

He hurt all over, and could smell nothing but vinegar. He opened his eyes, and saw black strands of his hair. Sitting up, he stared at his shaking, clawless hands, trying not to whimper in fear. Human!

"You—you're just a boy."

He cringed away from the priest squatting before him. Between them was the shattered crock. "I thought we had a youkai thief: I put a trap-spell on the crock. It shouldn't have gone off, unless..." Eyes narrowed, then widened. "Hanyo?"

He whimpered. "Please don't kill me!"

Frowning, the priest studied him for a long moment, then sighed, looking away. "I shouldn't, but—tell me where the goods are, and I'll let you go. This time."

He described the cave, then fled, limping.

Lesson learned: never steal from the same place twice.

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**Author's Note:** The shorter version of this was published for the LiveJournal community, Inyasha FanFiction Contest (iyfic_contest) on September 6, 2010, for the prompt 'Amateur.' The title has been changed from "The Amateur Thief." Inuyasha is around ten, in human terms.


	2. A Hanyo In a Pear Tree

_**Disclaimer:**__ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

**A Hanyo In a Pear Tree**

Inuyasha yawned, wiggled against the bark of the ancient pear tree, and examined the half-eaten, round, golden fruit in his hand, wondering if he could wedge the remainder into his stuffed belly. Slowly licking the glistening, irregular surfaces formed by his previous bytes, Inuyasha shifted position again, wrapping an arm around the trunk. How he loved this old tree. How he loved the sweetness of the ripe, yellow fruit he got to pick off the tree for a few days each year...

He wished he knew how the cooks at mama's family's home had managed to make sweets when snow was on the ground.

Pouting, the young hanyo examined his half-eaten pear, freeing his arm, and setting his back against the trunk, before moodily picking out the dark seeds in the middle of the pear. If only he could figure out how to have pears all the time! He never got anything sweet in the winter! He might luck out occasionally, finding a withered, frozen fruit clinging to its parent, but that was rare, and tended to taste of incipient rot. He had tried to keep pears for later eating, but his efforts, so far, had been failures. Storing fruit in a hole in the ground, or in a hollow tree, just meant feeding something else. The only decent cave was far away, and he couldn't figure out how to make something to carry the pears in that held more than his shirt. And those he did manage to store went mushy and yucky if he kept them too long.

And worse, what if something happened to this tree? It was old, he could tell: two years ago, he had discovered that a storm had broken three major branches. It was producing fewer pears. What was he going to do when it died? The few pear trees that were not owned and protected by humans tended to be spindly, with thin-tasting, worm-riddled fruit.

He took another big bite, grimaced, and fished a broken seed out of his mouth with a claw. He started to flip it away, then paused at a sudden thought. Pear trees grew from seeds, didn't they? There were lots of seed from the pears he'd eaten. What if he took a bunch of seeds back to his cave, and planted them? If he could get lots of pear trees, where no one else knew they were, he'd have lots and lots of pears. And, then, someday, surely he could figure out how to keep pears good year-round!

Stuffing the remnant of the pear between his teeth, the boy slithered to the ground and started searching for unbroken seeds. Seeds. Pear trees. Pears. Lots of pears! Yeah!

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**Author's Note:** This is the original version of the 250-word drabble posted to the Issekiwa community on LiveJournal for the prompt "Ripe." It was originally posted on September 16, 2010. (last edit - 9/20/10)


	3. Too Dirty To Eat

_**Disclaimer:**__ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

**To Dirty To Eat**

The forest was strange, and full of new smells. Inuyasha's ears flicked and danced, and his nose was in constant motion. Not that he was afraid—un-uh! But there were youkai smells, and youkai either ran away or tried to kill him.

He flexed his clawed hands as he walked, ready for anything, but hoping to find something to eat. He was hungry! Maybe one of the new smells would lead to a yummy food.

Presently, a new smell attracted his attention. He couldn't quite identify it, but it smelled a bit like meat. Warm, red meat. He couldn't help salivating a little. Hesitating, he decided to follow that smell. Ears and nose and eyes at full alert, he slowly made his way up the scent trail. He wanted to eat a meal, not be a meal!

The smell seemed to be coming from near a tree that looked somewhat like a willow, except its leaves were strange. Inuyasha crouched to all fours, considering. "Are you a youkai tree?" he asked presently, quite ready to leap back if the tree got angry and attacked, just because he was hanyo. Youkai were always doing that.

Nothing.

Except the smell seemed to grow stronger, even more enticing. He swallowed.

"Did someone bury some meat by your trunk?" he asked, for the smell seemed to be coming from underground, and the dirt looked disturbed.

No answer.

Inuyasha fidgeted. Fidgeted some more, then jumped forward, clawed at the dirt pile twice, and jumped back.

Nothing.

He repeated the jump-and-claw. And again.

Still nothing.

Except the smell was stronger.

He gave in, leaped, and started digging. His hole was elbow-deep when he abruptly jumped straight up, twisted, kicked off against the trunk, and dove. Something sliced his ankle. He yelped, hit the ground, rolled and came up in a crouch, snarling. The tree shivered its long, slender branches at him, one of the nearest edged with a line of red.

"Missed me!" he taunted.

A face emerged, smirking. "No, I didn't." The bloodied branch tip whipped through the air, and the woody mouth closed on the tip. "Umm—urgh!" The branch whipped out of the mouth, and the face worked in disgust. "Hanyo blood! Awful!"

Inuyasha bristled. "So I'm hanyo! So what!"

The tree scraped its mouth out with a different branch. "I spend all this time trying to lure a nice, fat youkai, and get you. Get out of here, hanyo."

Inuyasha blinked. "You—aren't going to try to kill me?"

The tree looked even more disgusted. "Why should I? I need pure youkai blood to replenish my roots. Your blood is so filthy; it'll take a season to get the taste out of my sap! So go away, before I sic a youkai four-foot on you!"

The enticing smell had vanished. Inuyasha sniffed, smelled a frisson of aged blood. "Feh," he grumbled, ears slaunchwise. "I'll go. Stupid tree."

He had to leap back to avoid the swipe of a limber branch. He stuck out his tongue, and then whirled and scampered away.

That was a first. He'd been called 'dirty-blooded' many times, but this was the first time a youkai had simply told him to leave.

Because he was too 'dirty' to eat?

_Weeeiiiiird._


	4. A New Friend

_**Disclaimer:**__ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

**A New Friend**

The red-clad boy silently crouched on the roof watching the children play. He yearned to join them, but knew that his appearance would only make them scatter, and maybe scream. And then mama's uncle would speak to her at supper and scold her for letting the 'vermin' loose. He didn't want her to be scolded, and so he would be quiet and still. Though it hurt—he so wanted a friend to play with! Or just someone else to talk with, besides his mother and her servants. He was so—

"Ow!" He yelped, as much in surprise as pain as he slapped at his neck. Something squished under his fingers, and he pulled down his hand, to examine the flattened thing. Had he actually been—stung? He had never been successfully stung or bitten by insects before—at most, their efforts tickled. Though the racket of their wings, if they got inside his ear, were annoying.

The flattened blob popped into roundness. "Oh, oh, oh, don't do that, Inuyasha-sama!" it said, bouncing on his palm. "That's no way to treat your vassal!"

Inuyasha stared, round-eyed. "What are you?" he asked. "And I'm not a 'sama' – grandpa is."

"_What_ am I?" The tiny thing—which had six limbs, which made it an insect, Inuyasha knew, bounced again, his odd-looking face twisted in annoyance. "I'm Myoga the flea! Didn't your mother ever tell me about you?"

"Un-uh. You can't be a flea—you bit me. Fleas can't bite me."

A tiny growl emanated from the tiny beast. "A _youkai_ flea can. I bit your father plenty of times."

"Eww. Why would you want to do that?"

"Because he had the most delicious blood! And your blood is delicious, too."

"Eww," Inuyasha said again. "You eat—blood? That's yucky!"

"I'm a flea! That's what fleas do—drink blood!"

Inuyasha blinked. "Oh." He examined the flea again. "I didn't like it very much."

"I'll make it up to you, Inuyasha-sama."

"How? You're so tiny."

"Hey! Size isn't everything, you know! I was one of your father's most loyal vassals!"

"What's a vassal? Is it … something like a friend?" His ears canted downward. "I really want a friend…"

The flea stilled. "Don't you have friends?"

"Un-uh. I'm not supposed to be seen. Uncle scolds mama if I let myself be seen."

"A vassal … might be considered … a kind of friend," the flea finally offered.

"Oh, good! And can you tell me stories about papa? I never got to know him…"

"Of course I can."

"All right! Let's go tell mama!" Closing his hand carefully over the flea, Inuyasha scrambled to his feet, and started leaping lightly over the roofs.

He had a friend!

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**Author's Note: **A very shortened version of this piece appeared for the prompt "Size Isn't Everything" for the Inuyasha FanFic community on LiveJournal. That version was published March 12, 2011. (03/20/2011) Additional Note: In my version of pre-canon, Izayoi returns to her home after the Inu no Taisho dies. Her father, who was very fond of her, accepted her back, but refused to acknowledge the existence of her son.


	5. You've Got To Be Carefully Taught

_**Disclaimer:**__ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied. _

You've got to be taught  
To hate and fear  
You've got to be taught  
From year to Year  
It's got to be drummed  
in your dear little ear  
_**  
**_

You've got to be taught  
To be Afraid  
Of people whose eyes  
are oddly made  
And people whose skin  
Is a different shade  
You've got to be carefully taught

You've got to be taught  
Before it's too late  
Before you are 6 or 7 or 8  
To hate all the people  
your relatives hate  
You've got to be carefully taught

_("You've Got to be Carefully Taught" from "South Pacific")_

**You've Got to be Carefully Taught**

Inuyasha blinked sleepily at the fire, telling himself to stay awake. The cave smelled of youkai, and it wasn't his wood burning. But, he'd been so _cold_, and so _wet_, and so _hungry_. The youkai smell was faint, and it wasn't like they would _lose_ anything—he was only _borrowing_ the wood: he'd replace it, as soon as it stopped raining. He would. Once he was dry, once he'd eaten his roots and his little fish, he'd go find a dead tree, and cut it up with his recently discovered "Sankon Tessou." And everything would be all right…

"Stinking, thieving hanyo!"

Inuyasha woke barely in time to duck the blow, leaping over the fire, somersaulting and rolling to his feet along the interior wall. Two hulking forms, with heavy arms and half-foot-long claws, stood between him and freedom.

"Not a thief!" he retorted, arching his hands, looking for an opening. "Gonna replace the wood!"

"Thief!" snarled the second. "We eat thieves! Kill!"

Inuyasha slashed the air with his claws. The one in the lead howled and staggered as the eldritch claws shredded his shoulder. Dashing past the first, he dodged the second's attack, and then ran full tilt into a little youkai who was barely chest height on him.

"Sorry!" yelped Inuyasha as he rolled free and dashed out of the cave. Coming to a stop a safe distance away (so slow they were!) he whirled.

"Not a thief! Gimme back my food, or you're the thief!"

A roar and a rock answered him.

… … …

"Why'd you try to kill pa?"

High in the tree, Inuyasha peered down at the wood he'd piled up a near, but safe distance from the cave. The little youkai stood looking up at him.

"Wasn't trying," Inuyasha retorted. "I just wanted out."

"You stole our wood."

"Did not! Borrowed it—see that pile? Givin' it back!"

Round, black eyes studied him. "I wish you weren't a dirty, thieving, hanyo."

"I ain't dirty, and I ain't a thief!" Silence. "How come?"

Little youkai sighed. "Had to leave all my friends behind, when we fled." He drooped. "I'm lonely."

"Hah! At least you've _had _friends!"

Eyes widened. "You've never had—friends?"

"No one wants to be friends with a hanyo!"

"Oh." Little youkai looked sad. "I—"

"Kuroke!" The roar was angry. Kuroke flinched.

"Gotta go!" He turned, hesitated, then whispered, "Sorry."

Inuyasha watched, sorry as well.

_Stupid adults._

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**Author's Note:** The shorter version of this piece was written for the LiveJournal community Issekiwa, for the prompt 123: Borrow. It was originally posted on April 14, 2011. It took second place. (7/7/11)


	6. Eyes of the Beholder

**__****Disclaimer:**_ This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied. _

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**Eyes of the beholder**

He was a fey creature, perched on tree branches, or peering out from behind a bush, his gaze yearning or hopeful, or sometimes just hungry.

Not that the villagers ever looked at him long enough, carefully enough, to notice.

Many would almost see the little boy lost. But, then, their eyes would inevitably be captured by the abnormality of his appearance. The first attractant—at least during the day—was always the thick, white hair. Real children had black hair, not white, and boys kept their hair tightly and properly fastened, not flying loose.

Then, their eyes would go next to the white ears. Beast ears—ears of a feral dog or albino wolf.

Only the most fearless were apt to survey the being long enough to notice the vertical pupils of the golden eyes, or detect the fangs or the claws.

Not that it made any difference.

The obvious differences we're enough. Yells would go up, usually of 'Youkai!' The fearful would flee, and the less fearful would grab whatever weapon—makeshift or designed—and toss them at him, or charge him. And he would flee, his needs unanswered, his humanity ignored.

But, worse, were those who recognized him as hanyo, as something having some human blood. Those who called him hanyo reacted with more anger, by far, than those who only saw youkai. And though he did not know the definitions of many of the epithets for many years, he early recognized the hate that extended not just to him, but to his mother.

And nothing hurt more. Curled in a safe place, in a cave, high up a tree, he would fight the tears. It was one thing to hate him—only his mother had ever really loved him, after all. But, how could anyone hate his beautiful, kind, gentle, good mother?

It hurt. It hurt so much.

Until he began to feel anger. And then rage. And hate.

Though he struggled against that. Because the woman who loved him had asked him to. Had asked him, to try not to hate.

He never wanted to do anything that would have brought tears to her eyes.

To the only eyes that saw him as a beautiful boy, and a beloved son.

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**Author's Note:** This is a somewhat longer version of the piece that was posted to the Inuyasha FanFiction Contest community, for the prompt 'Abnormality.' It was originally posted on June 2, 2011. It took second place.


	7. The Accident

_**Disclaimer:** This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied._

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**The Accident**

Inuyasha was in a hurry, dashing across the roof. He landed on an icy spot, slipped, and fell. Twisting, he crashed down on his side, bounced, and then cannoned off the roof, his flailing fingers just missing the upturned edge.

Horses shrieked, men shouted, and Inuyasha yelped as a shod hoof clipped his shoulder, adding to his tumble and momentum. His crash landing was hard, and any real thinking vanished as instincts took over. Skittering four-footed across the cobblestones, dodging panicked horses, the boy made a line towards the darker area that was horse-free and sleet-free. Bounding onto the porch, he saw too late the tall, lean figure...

... ... ...

Inuyasha huddled within a blanket on his mother's futon, his hair long since dried, and his shoulder no longer hurting, but feeling no bit better about himself. When he heard the door to the suite slide open, he sniffed, then sniffed again. Pulling the blanket more tightly around himself, he waited.

Izayoi smiled wearily at him, smelling of sadness, of her father and brother, and of the tea she had served them. "Is—is grandpa all right?" whispered Inuyasha. "I-I didn't mean to run into him!"

She knelt carefully, and stroked his hair. "He's fine, Inuyasha. Ani raved, of course, but father just shrugged and said puppies never mean harm: it's just their nature to get into trouble."

His ears sank lower than they'd been. "I'm not a puppy!" he whispered, with a sniff that had nothing to do with identifying smells. "I'm not."

Izayoi leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Father does his best, little one—I know he considers you his grandson, even if he can't ever admit it. Just be more careful on the roofs, next time."

Inuyasha rubbed a rebelling eye. "Yes, mama."

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**Author's Note:** This was written for the prompt "Crash Landing," for the LiveJournal community Inuyasha Fanfiction Contest. It took second place. (12/4/2013)


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